


Pieces Scattered Everywhere

by Lavendergaia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavendergaia/pseuds/Lavendergaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five people who find out about Skye and Trip (and one person who doesn't).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces Scattered Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Ardentaislinn for the beta <3

I. May

There’s too many people around. It’s not something Skye usually dislikes; after being raised in orphanages, she’s used to being surrounded by people. People she doesn’t really know, people she only knows by name or reputation. It’s one of those things she’s learned to deal with until it’s possible to carve out a place to be alone.

But Skye doesn’t want to be alone. Not really.

The couch on the Bus is still covered with a sheet as Trip presses her down on it, his mouth voracious on her neck. The area is dusty, upkeep being as rare as the Bus’ missions until the cloaking gets worked out, dirt and grime tracked up from the garage down below. Their mobile operating unit is decidedly less mobile now, but it does make a good hideout.

As her hands slip under his shirt, Trip bites down on her shoulder and she knows she’ll have a bruise there to match the dozens of others that dot her skin. This one will be worth it. Her fingers count his ribs on the right side, four fractured and he hisses against her skin at the slightest touch. She kisses his Adam’s apple in apology, in appreciation, in thanks that they made it out of there.

This mission had fucked them both up, left them battered and with more scars to add to their ever growing collections. After being checked over by medical, they had instantly gravitated towards each other, silently asking if the other was alright, assuring that no permanent damage had been sustained.

The halls of the base were crowded, the sleeping quarters full of people going in and out of their bunks. Desperate to get away from the chaos, they fell back to Skye’s first real home. The empty garage isn’t unusual and the rest of the plane has been all but abandoned; sometimes, when Skye is there, she feels the cavernous rooms echo inside of her. Then Trip will kiss her or hold her that much closer and she’ll fill up with that, expanding beyond what she has ever thought possible.

She has a cut on her chin and his own chin keeps pressing against it as he kisses her, but she ignores the sting. His mouth is worth the pain. She’s desperate to have it everywhere but he teases her by keeping it at her face, her neck, her shoulders. Reaching down for the hem of her shirt, she starts to pull it over her head. Her back aches as she does so and she’s grateful when Trip helps, removing his own shirt in the process.

Rather than immediately urging his mouth to her newly bared skin, she wraps her arms around him so she can press him against her. He’s warm and firm, sweaty skin and against sweaty skin. As his fingers work the clasp of her bra, she revels in how steady he is. She knows he’s injured, but despite that, she knows he will remain strong and solid, and it’s that steadfastness she craves as much as his body.

Still, her body calls for his and she’s pleased when he gets her bra off, pleased when his mouth and hands are free to explore her. She rocks her hips up against his to signal both her approval and further needs but he’s otherwise distracted and as she holds his head, she can’t blame him, only enjoy the pleasure.

She’s reaching down to the fly of her pants when she hears someone clear their throat. Her eyes fly open and Trip sits up. Despite having been previously occupied, his reaction time is faster than hers and he grabs the sheet that is on the back of the couch and throws it on Skye to cover her before turning around.

May looks decidedly unimpressed and Skye’s face burns with embarrassment. For a moment, no one speaks; then Skye clears her throat. “I was…we just wanted a bit of privacy.”

Nodding as if no one around is partially naked, May says, “I often come here when I want to be alone as well. But it seems you got here first, so I’ll leave you to it.” May turns to leave, but not without glancing at Skye over her shoulder. It takes Skye a moment to realize that May is checking in with her, checking to make sure she’s okay and Skye just smiles and gives her a nod before her SO feels comfortable descending the Bus’ stairs.

Trip presses his face to her chest and groans. “Of all people…”

“It’s like she has a sixth sense for when I’m getting laid,” Skye muses and Trip looks up, startled. “Oh, uh, there was this guy, Miles—look, it’s not really a now conversation.”

He nods, but the kiss he plants on her is possessive, claiming. It sends a heat down through Skye’s toes as she surges up into it, throwing a leg over his waist and caressing his cheek with her thumb. “You think she’ll come back?” he says, words coming out every other pant. “You know, as someone with experience.”

She simply shakes her head, relieved that she feels that she can trust May not to come back or even to tell anyone, at least not before she’s had a chance to talk to her. “I think we’re safe.”

“Well, in that case…” He reaches for her pants, finishing the job that had been interrupted and Skye smiles against his lips. Their surroundings are but a skeleton of what they knew, but every time he touches her, the light is ignited again in Skye.

* * *

II. Coulson

Throughout her life, Skye has generally avoided meetings: guidance counselors, truant officers, social services, just literally any kind of court appearance. She thinks it should surprise her that meetings with Coulson are generally the highlight of her day, if not her week, but it doesn’t. Even when everything is changing—even when Coulson is changing—she can always find that part of him that’s the same, a piece of stability to hold on to when the world is falling away.

She plops in the chair across from his desk and props her feet up next to his pencil jar, narrowly missing the director nametag. “So, I’ve been working on those symbols and I’ve still got nothing, but I’ve been working these leads and—”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, Skye,” he says. He’s got his hands clasped together and they’re resting in front of him and oh—oh. This is one of _those_ conversations. The one where he’s not Coulson or AC, he’s Agent, now Director Coulson. Where he’s Principal, “it’s spelled p-a-l, cuz I’m a pal” Coulson.

She fucking hates these conversations.

They’ve begun to occur less and less over time, especially with Coulson being away so often, but it sort of makes her feel like a puppy being hit by a newspaper. The shame lingers, but is the lesson really learned? Right now, she’s not exactly sure what she’s done, but it’s probably something. It always is.

She waits, staring him down. Skye can wait a really long time. She was raised by nuns. She can tap into that Catholic-upbringing patience when the time properly calls for it.

Just as she suspects, Coulson breaks first, taking in and letting out a deep breath before he talks. “As you know, I’ve made some changes during my time as Director. Gotten rid of Levels, those sorts of things that I think will help S.H.I.E.L.D. as an organization run more effectively and more openly.”

Skye knows, of course. It’s something that she agrees with, almost 100% (that small 2% hold out is the part of her that thinks it would be really cool to be like a Level 8 or 9 and be super in charge, probably left over from the fact that she only got to be Level 1 for like a day, but in general she totally disagrees with hierarchies). “Yeah, Coulson, I know.”

“One of the things I did not get rid of is the anti-fraternization clause.”

Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. With any luck, her face doesn’t show the complete shock and terror that she feels, but she has a feeling that she’s completely screwed. She takes a few deep breaths, glances at her heartbeat monitor and mentally curses knowing that it’s effectively off the charts, and then answers him. “What’s that got to do with me? You know I’m no narc, Coulson, so if you’ve got any suspicions about people—”

“I know about you and Agent Triplett, Skye.” He seems vaguely amused that she’s trying to hide it.

Well, crap. “Did May tell you?” It’s probably not the best first thing to come out of her mouth, but there it is.

It helps a little bit that Coulson isn’t able to completely cover up his own surprise. “No, she didn’t.” She can tell he’s trying to figure out _why_ May didn’t tell him, and Skye mentally thanks her SO. “I do have eyes, Skye. I don’t know if you know this, but I was actually a spy too once.”

“Oh, do tell!”

“The point is, I’m aware of your relationship.”

“It’s not a relationship.”

He holds up a hand to quiet her. “You don’t have to classify anything to me, Skye.”

She feels the need to classify it to herself though, desperately searching for the words, for any words to help make sense of the multitude of feelings that rage inside of her on a daily basis. “I…we…” She swallows hard, pulling her feet off the desk so she can lean her elbows on her knees. “He’s not Ward.”

Skye isn’t sure exactly what she means by that, knows Trip is so much bigger than that, but they’re the words she finds in this moment. Luckily for her, Coulson has always understood her when she has least understood herself and he nods solemnly, face full of compassion. “I know, Skye,” he says softly.

He lets out a somber sigh before saying, “Look, there’s no Index for something like this. In the past, if a relationship wasn’t deemed harmful to the participants and terminated, they would be monitored by their SOs or CO. Trip doesn’t have an SO for obvious reasons, and you say May already knows. I don’t believe that your relationship will have a negative effect on you as agents or on your team as a whole, but I wanted you to know that I’m aware, the clause is in place, and I reserve the right to address this with you at a later time if I feel necessary. Is that clear?”

Licking her lips, she says, “Yeah, of course.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “In addition, Agent Koenig has requested that I inform all agents that the gear we use for undercover operations is not to be used for agents’…personal time.”

She doesn’t even attempt to hide her grin as she thinks of the General Jones uniform and just how damn good he looked in that. And how good he looked getting out of it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Coulson rolls his eyes. Then, after a moment of regarding her carefully, he says, “Do I need to have this talk with Agent Triplett or do you feel comfortable passing along this information?”

Skye can only imagine how weirdly patriarchal and paternalistic that conversation could get. “I’ll tell him.”

Tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair, Coulson nods. “Okay, then. So, tell me what you’ve got on the symbols.”

That night, she curls in bed with her laptop, trying all the different hacks she knows to get through some of their weaker security protocols, looking for the flaws she can exploit. It’s her job to find these things so she can build them back up and it’s soothing for her. Codes, computers, she’s good at this. It’s the sort of mindlessness where her brain works at its top capacity without her even realizing it.

She’s distracted from her code coma when there’s a knock at the door. Still sore from the day’s earlier training, she hopes it’s not May with a sudden yearning for tai chi, or worse, a mission. Instead it’s Trip and he’s carrying what appears to be a pizza box and a six pack. Her knees go weak from the aroma and also because May kicked her ass. “Where did you get that?” she says, salivating from the smell of mozzarella.

“I have my ways.” His grin is sly and possibly more knee-weakening than the pizza. “I was going to eat this myself, but then I figured, you know, I’m a generous person. I could share if I thought of someone worthy, someone who likes pizz—” She grabs him by the collar of his t-shirt, dragging him into her room and letting the door shut behind him.

He hadn’t bothered bringing plates, which Skye appreciates on a spiritual level. They put the pizza box on her bed and eat right out of it, balancing slices in their hands. His free arm wraps around her waist and she leans against him automatically, one of her legs slung over his. “So, how’d your day go?” he says, leaning over to eat her crust out of her hand.

“Oh, you know, discovered I can feel pain in new places, argued with Koenig about the firewalls on Vaults F-I, meeting with Coulson.” She stretches her back, hearing things pop that she’s fairly certain shouldn’t pop. “You know, usual.”

His hand comes up to cup the back of her neck, thumb finding the knots and rubbing them out. “Yeah? Haven’t seen our fearless leader in a while, what’s up with him?”

Skye’s been very specifically not thinking about her conversation with Coulson all day and she reaches over for her beer, taking several long gulps. “You know, just Coulson stuff.” She pulls another piece of pizza out of the box and silently offers him one as well before saying, “You want to watch a movie?”

The movie distracts him and later, when he holds her hips and she rides him over and over, she’s perfectly distracted too.

* * *

III. Hunter

She’s never really been the type for shower sex. It’s always seemed too much of a hassle, not worth the risk of slipping, and for a lot of her adult life she lived in a van that didn’t have a shower. In general, it wasn’t really at the top of her to do list, so to speak.

Trip has excellent balance.

Trip has excellent balance and her own sense of grace has improved greatly since May became her SO, so when they finish training for the day and his hand spreads out intimately against the palm of her back rather than patting her on the shoulder, Skye knows she isn’t going to shower alone. She’s not sure she can make it that long without him and, frankly, going it alone doesn’t really do it for her that much anymore.

The showers on the north side of the base have been remodeled just like all the other bathrooms—new tilework, new fixtures, they look brand new. Unlike all the other bathrooms, the water pressure is for shit. It ekes out so slowly that she can't _really_ wash the shampoo out of her hair—not without assistance. The base pretty much ignores it as a bathroom and it’s turned into the running joke about the north end storage unit.

Mack’s supposed to take a look at it, but apparently it just keeps getting moved down his to-do list and more important things keep getting moved up.

Funny how that happens.

They try not to retreat to what they consider their private showers more than once or twice a week—patterns get picked up around the base pretty easily. But Skye can’t even feel a little bit guilty about keeping it all to herself when she strips off her workout clothes and eagerly watches Trip strip off his, climbing under the drizzly spray of warm water. His hands on her skin are better than any body jet, strong fingers slowly working out any kinks in her muscles.

He always helps her wash her hair, massaging her scalp to get the soap out and because apparently she makes “sex noises, you don’t need to get me in the mood girl, I’m already there.” At that point, she can’t help herself, she has to kiss him. Nothing light and sweet, her mouth dominates his as she draws his wet body against hers. While she sucks his tongue into her mouth, his nimble fingers explore her body, trying to learn something new about it every time.

When he picks her up in his arms, holding her against the chilled tile of the shower wall, Skye only wraps her legs around him because she longs to have him closer. With Trip, she doesn’t have any fears that he’ll lose his balance or slip or drop her. She knows he’ll never let her fall.

After the shower, all she wants is to go back to one of their rooms and lie on the bed with him, revel in his newly clean scent, count how many minutes until it’s mixed with hers again. They have duties though, responsibilities, and they usually part at the end of the next corridor with a kiss and Trip’s hand wrapped in the wet ends of her hair.

This time, when they break away, staring at each other for a moment, Hunter comes around the corner with a push cart. “Oh, hey,” he says with a nod. “Trip, man, Koenig’s looking for you. Better hope you don’t get put on inventory too,” he adds, rolling his eyes at the boxes piled on his cart.

“Oh, uh, thanks, I’ll go find him.” Trip shoots Skye a smile before heading down the hallway at a jog. She watches him go, enjoying the view, before heading in the opposite direction just for the sake of going in the opposite direction.

Hunter falls in step with her, hastening his pace when she speeds up. “You know, it used to be the same way with me and my ex.”

“She used to run off to be with Koenig when she saw you coming?”

“Secret rendezvous, finding places out of the way where people we know wouldn’t catch us.” He clicks his tongue nostalgically. “I’ll give it to you, it’s a bit more difficult on a secret base. Ex-wife and I used to get hotels under assumed names—I mean, we did that anyway for work, but we went on at least two dozen honeymoons this way—and went on flights just for the mile high club. And limos, limos were popular. Really, any vehicle with a large back seat—”

“We were taking a shower,” she says just to shut him up, then quickly corrects herself, “I mean, _we_ weren’t. Two colleagues were showering post-workout. In the showers.”

Hunter rolls his eyes. “The worst showers on base? I wouldn’t rinse my toothbrush in those showers.”

She fixes him with a look of contempt. “I used to live on a plane and before that I was essentially homeless. I’m not here to complain about water pressure.”

“Uh huh.” He merely cocks his eyebrow at her and she can feel herself start to scowl. The homeless thing usually works. Maybe she should have mentioned living in a van? “Funny though, cuz I know Mack was starting to look into that problem earlier this week and he said he turned off the water to all the showers but one so he could focus in on the issue. I know you’re not one to complain about water pressure, but certainly _no_ water should be difficult unless you were only using _one_ shower.”

Biting down her on the inside of her cheek, she stares at him out of the corner of her eye, debating whether or not to call his bluff. It’ll be a tricky thing because it’s something they can actually go back and check. There’s no way Mack should be working on that bathroom; she personally reworked his schedule so that he would have eight critical tasks before that, but still…

Before she can make a decision, Hunter stretches his arms over his head, pushing his cart with his hip. “Trip’s a good spy, right? Good eyes, sharp, we should be glad to have him on the team?”

“What? Yeah, of course. Trip is great, we’re amazingly lucky.”

“Funny he didn’t notice you missing a button then.”

Skye looks down at her blouse and curses. Somehow, the third button of her black shirt has gone unbuttoned, leaving her dark purple bra—Trip’s favorite—visible through the gaping hole. She turns away from Hunter, rebuttoning her entire shirt as quickly as possible. When she turns back around, he’s grinning at her, that shit-eating grin that makes it very clear why he’s divorced.

“Hunter, I swear to god, if you tell anyone—”

“Relax, sweetheart, your secret is safe with me,” he says, nudging her gently in the side. He seems to think better of the effort when he catches a glance at how highly unamused she is. “Just, if I’m gonna be on a team with some people, I think it’s best to know the dynamics at play. If two people are important to each other, that’s something that’s gotta be factored in, it’s something that’s gonna play a role.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she says, “Trip and I are professionals, okay? Nothing off the clock affects anything on the clock.”

“Love, are we ever really off the clock?”

“Missions are missions,” she insists. “We would never do anything to endanger a mission or our teammates. Emotions get checked at the door, and for that matter, there are no emotions.”

The corner of his mouth quirks into a wistful smile. “That’s what they all say at first.”

“I don’t know why I’m talking about this with you,” she says, yanking her cell phone out of her pocket and checking the time. She has to meet with Coulson in a few minutes and needs to start heading that way anyway.

Raising his hands up defensively, he says, “Hey, I was just doing inventory. Not my fault if you gave me some things that weren’t on the list.” He gives her a little salute before heading off down the northwest storage corridor. “As far as I’m concerned, this conversation never happened.”

She waits until he uses his lanyard to get into the storage locker, then turns around and heads back to the bathroom. She has just enough time before her meeting with Coulson to see if he really was telling the truth about the rest of those showers.

* * *

IV. Simmons

Both the kitchen and her life are less empty now that Simmons is back. She smiles at her friend once more and Simmons smiles back before taking a sip of her tea. Their silence is mostly companionable as Skye moves her spoon through her cereal. Next to her, her coffee sits growing cold and she wonders if it makes her look needy to remind Simmons that she missed her.

They talk for a little bit, about what’s happening in the lab, about the missions Simmons missed. Skye doesn’t bring up Hydra, doesn’t want to have to be the one who keeps bringing it up. She tells herself that Simmons will talk about it when Simmons wants to talk about it, that Simmons will want to talk about it eventually. Going undercover at Hydra is a thing that people want to talk about, right?

She’s so caught up in her thoughts, she doesn’t realize that Simmons is looking at her curiously. Her face is pulled together in a thoughtful frown and she reaches for Skye’s neck, her cool, gentle fingers brushing against a spot just above the place where her neck meets her shoulder. “You have some discoloration and bruising here, like a contusion. Did you get injured?”

Skye can’t remember anything happening to that area, but she gets injured pretty much everywhere these days. “I don’t know, probably.”

Simmons’ frown intensifies. “Are those medics paying proper attention to you?”

“They’re fine,” Skye insists, though she feels warm inside from her concern. “It’s nothing, it’s probably just—” She cuts herself off when she remembers exactly what it is, remembers Trip’s mouth over her neck as they hid in the storage closet when they were supposed to be getting new mats for the gym, remembers biting the inside of her cheek so hard it almost bled because she couldn’t stop whining at how good his tongue felt as it traced her collarbone.

The memory must bring a hot blush to her face because Simmons’ confusion soon melts away to understanding and then embarrassment. “Oh. Oh! Um, I see. I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that you were—with someone.”

Skye shrugs, counting the remaining cheerios in her milk. “I mean, it happened while you were gone, so. I was gonna tell you.” She’s pretty sure she was going to tell her. “It just…you know.”

“Right, no, of course.” Smiling at her over the rim of her teacup, Simmons says, “Is it one of the new people? Uh, Hunter? I mean, I know he and Bobbi have history, but—”

Her gag is audible. “It’s not…god, it’s not _Hunter_. Even before I knew who his ex-wife was, I wouldn’t have gone there.” She shakes her head, trying to clear it of that unfortunate mental image. “No, my trust meter hasn’t reset nearly enough for any of the new people.”

“I see.” Simmons gives her a tremulous smile, but Skye isn’t so oblivious that she can’t see the way her already pale skin goes while. “I’m…I’m really happy for you, Skye.”

She sounds anything but and it takes a second for her distress to click for Skye. “It’s not Fitz!” She reaches for Simmons’ hand, squeezing it tightly. “Oh, god, it’s not Fitz. It’s Trip, it’s Trip! I wouldn’t…no, I swear.”

“Oh!” The breath Simmons lets out is sharp and her eyes are watery when she smiles. “Really? That’s…okay. Alright, good. You could though. It would be alright if you did.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Skye insists. She tries to imagine herself with Fitz and she feels sick to her stomach at even the fictional betrayal. It helps when she tries to think of Fitz looking at any other woman the way he looks at Simmons and realizes she can’t even picture it in her mind. It would never happen. “I would never do that to you.”

Color returns to Simmons’ face as a flush of pink across her cheeks. She runs a hand through her newly short hair. “I missed him.”

“I know,” Skye says. She’s had her doubts, but ever since knowing where Simmons was and what she was doing...there was only one reason why. Only one person she would do that for.

Taking a deep breath, Simmons gives her a wide smile, one that almost reaches her eyes. “So, tell me about you and Trip. That sounds fairly amazing.”

Drawing her tongue across her lower lip slowly, she says, “I just…I missed people too.” She feels like it’s better to be non-specific here. She missed Simmons, obviously. And she knows it won’t help Simmons to hear about how she missed Fitz, still sometimes misses the Fitz who used to make dumb jokes with her back on the Bus, who had the bunk next to hers. And she still misses _him_ , the person she thought he was, the person he never was. Family, and home, and safety are still tangled up in the lie of him that she was fooled into believing.

The feeling of Simmons’ hand wrapping around hers gives her strength to continue speaking. “Trip was there. He’s always been here. When I need to talk or not talk or not think or whatever. He’s cool that way.”

“That’s really great,” Simmons says and Skye hasn’t realized until this moment that she wanted her friend’s validation.

“It is. And, I mean, he’s super hot.” When Simmons wrinkles her nose in amusement, Skye bites her bottom lip. “Just for the record, Trip was fair game, right? I know that you two kind of had a sorta maybe thing before but—”

“Completely fair game.” Simmons winks at her, then her face fades into a contemplative wistfulness. “I was never really…my interest was always…It never would have worked.”

Skye is sure she can finish those sentences, is sure the end to all of Simmons’ sentences is in the lab on the other side of the base, but she just nods. It’s not her place. Not yet. “Well, good, because otherwise I totally would have stolen your boyfriend and been having great sex with him all over the Playground and wouldn’t _that_ have been awkward.”

Simmons gasps, acting overly scandalized. “Is that what you’ve been doing while I’ve been infiltrating Hydra?”

“Look, not all of us can go on top secret miss—” She cuts herself off with a laugh when Simmons reaches over to tickle the tender spot on her neck and her laughter gets Simmons started too. Simmons’ giggles sound rusty, as if it’s been a long time since she’s done so.

They’re still laughing when they hear someone come in to the kitchen behind them. “Morning, ladies,” Trip calls out as he pulls a mug from the cabinet. “This coffee fresh?”

Skye’s a little breathless as she nods. “Yeah, I made it.”

“Good,” he says, pouring himself a cup. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like Mack, but that man makes some weak ass coffee.”

Simmons drinks down the rest of her tea as Trip joins them at the table. “I should probably get to the lab,” she says, though seems far less enthusiastic about the idea than Skye has ever seen her. She stands up and gives Skye a little wink. “It was nice to eat breakfast with you, Skye.”

“We should do it more often,” Skye says. She squeezes Simmons’ hand before her friend puts her dishes in the dishwasher, leaving Skye and Trip alone in the kitchen. She runs her index finger around the rim of her mug. “I told her,” she says to him, resisting the urge to glance at him out of the corner of her eye. “About…you know.”

“Figured you were going to,” he says neutrally. “She’s your best friend. How’d it go?”

She shrugs. “I think she was just glad you weren’t Fitz.”

He snorts into his coffee, then shakes his head. “Oh, girl, you know better than that. I can only imagine what kind of biochemical weapon she would have come up with to take you out.” He raises an eyebrow at her. “Does Fitz even know you’re a girl?”

Grinning nostalgically, she says, “He knew I was a girl for a few weeks.” Trip’s eyes go wide, clearly intrigued and she laughs. “He had a little crush on me when I first joined the team. But, you know, he’s Fitz. Other than some pretty ridiculous flirting, it never went anywhere. And then…I don’t know. I guess he realized Simmons was a girl more.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Would have loved to have seen that.”

Twisting her lips together, she tries to be casual as she says, “You noticed Simmons was a girl right away.” Trip refuses to be baited by a forced offhand statement and she looks over at him, leaning her arms on the table for support. “You had a thing for her. When you first met the team. I mean, that’s why you ended up on the team.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there before you continue to dance around the question you want to ask me, we’ve only got one pot of coffee.” His hand settled on the small of her back, low and intimate. “I don’t have any feelings for Simmons. Nothing that isn’t friendly and happy she’s back. I’m not harboring anything romantic for her. I mean, I’ll be honest, she’s hot.”

“Of all my best friends, she is the hottest.”

“But she’s not you,” he says. “She never has been and I have never been under any illusions about that. You’re not a substitute whose bed I found because Simmons wasn’t here.”

He’s good at knowing pretty much exactly what she needs to hear. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

His hand curls around her shoulder and he pulls her more firmly against him. “I’m glad she’s back though.”

“Me too.” Skye can’t help but notice that when Simmons is around, everything feels just a bit more real.

* * *

V. Bobbi

Skye has to remember not to let her guard down. May might seem like her SO, but that’s just a term to lull her into a false sense of security. May is there to tear her down, rebuild her, then find those weak spots and eliminate them, leaving her both destroyed and stronger for it.

May is the one who wants to see her spar against Bobbi Morse.

She says it’ll be a good test to see how much she’s learned and judge which areas of her training need the most focus, but Skye’s pretty sure it’s actually a punishment. Perhaps a divine punishment for everything she’s ever done wrong in her life because Bobbi is a gazillion feet tall and a master everything and actually has her own codename. One that she doesn’t even mind people calling her.

If she’s going to die, at least she got laid this morning.

That thought continues to run through her mind after Bobbi thoroughly whoops her ass. Bobbi’s congratulating her on lasting as long as she did, on the hits she managed to land, but all Skye’s processing is _there are ways this could have hurt more?_ For her part, May tells her to shower up and they’ll go over her notes tomorrow, which is somewhat generous, though Skye isn’t sure she’ll make it to the shower or tomorrow.

Bobbi offers her a towel and a bottle of water as they sit on one of the benches along the wall and cool off. Across the open area of the training room, Trip, Mack, and Hunter are alternating using the free weights and the weight lifting bench. Trip is on the bench with Hunter spotting him; she can’t see from her distance exactly how much weight he’s got on the bar, but it seems like a lot. Maybe more than he should, but he doesn’t seem to be struggling much and even though he’s chatting with Mack, Hunter’s got a good eye on it.

“I do like it when a work out ends with a show,” Bobbi comments, winking at her.

Skye’s flustered at being caught staring, but she tries to cover it with a smirk. “It helps with the general feeling of not being able to breathe.”

Bobbi laughs and pats Skye on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine.” She follows Skye’s gaze back over to the men and says, “So, Trip, huh?”

The little bit of air left in Skye’s lungs dissipates. “What makes you think it’s Trip?”

“Well, you weren’t looking over at Mack.”

“What makes you think I wasn’t looking at Hunter?”

“Were you?” The question is presenting with no emotion, no judgement, no tone at all. Even if Skye was staring at Hunter, she still wouldn’t say yes. She shakes her head meekly and Bobbi grins. “I would have noticed before now if you stared at Hunter. Plus, you and Trip are constantly on top of each other.”

That’s not how she would qualify her interactions with Trip, but then she’s not super spy Bobbi Morse, so what does she know? “Trip and I are friends.”

“It’s cool, I’m not here to judge. Other than to compliment your taste.” She raises her water bottle like a toast. “He’s gorgeous.”

Not at all untrue. Skye stares at the way his arm muscles flex as he lifts the weight bar again, saying something that makes Hunter laugh. Her heart, which has only just recently returned to a normal pace, starts pounding and she takes a long drag of her water. “Is it weird?” she says. She hopes it comes out friendly and not likes she’s trying to interrogate her. “Working with your ex?”

Bobbi pushes her ponytail out of her way and wipes down her neck with her towel. “Not really. Not my first choice, of course, but when you and your ex are in the same business, you pretty much expect to run into each other, even if you don’t necessarily predict that you’ll end up living across the hall from one another.”

Skye wonders if she should try to empathize with her, what with the whole Ward and Vault D thing, but just nods. “He’s not the worst person we’ve ever had around.”

She snorts, then shrugs, stretching her arms over her head. “I recommended him to Coulson, so it was probably inevitable. Still, it’s nice to have him and Mack around. I think after everything, we all need people around that we can trust.”

It’s subtle, but not subtle enough and Skye raises an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, Trip and I do a lot of ‘trust exercises.’”

Bobbi ponytail bounces as she laughs. “Like I said, I’m not here to judge. We probably all need a little of _that_ too.” She winks at her, smile wide and bright.

Skye can’t help but smile, trying to stretch some feeling back into her legs. “Is it…is it even possible?” she wonders aloud. Bobbi is perhaps the only person she knows who could possibly answer this question. “I mean, can S.H.I.E.L.D. agents afford to do more than…trust exercises? I’m not talking about you,” she adds quickly. “But like, Coulson had this woman he was with and then that sort of…crashed and burned.” She wonders if that’s not the best example, considering Coulson died. Then again, maybe it is.

“I’m not the most typical case,” Bobbi says, rolling her eyes at herself. “Most S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are smart enough to stay away from mercenaries. I don’t have the stats memorized, but there is a higher than average divorce rate; it’s not dissimilar from other high-stress occupations where you don’t get to see your spouse often. It’s one of the reasons the anti-frat policy is enforced—I’m sure they found that the bad ended up outweighing the good. A lot of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, usually the ones in Communications or Sci-Tech, marry civilians.”

“Trip’s old partner was married,” Skye says, not sure why she’s thinking of this now, other than how she’s tried not think of it before. “Had a kid.”

“It’s harder in Ops. You’re away so much, don’t always have a steady base from which to work, your SO can call you out on a moment’s notice.” Bobbi’s voice gets soften when she says, “There’s so many secrets you have to keep, it’s like you can’t say anything. You have one life at home and one life at work and it’s hard for a lot of people to live that way, even people whose lives are built on espionage.”

Skye nods, thinking about how she already feels like two different Skyes: pre-S.H.I.E.L.D. and post-S.H.I.E.L.D. Gently resting her hand on Skye’s shoulder, Bobbi murmurs, “It doesn’t mean that it can’t work out though. There are a lot of agents who have found and continue to be in meaningful relationships. Plus, I bet the divorce statistics are skewed by half of our agents actually being Hydra.”

Laughing in both acknowledgement and bitterness, Skye rubs her left shoulder where a bruise is already starting to bloom. “Yeah. No, I’m sure you’re right.”

“Why don’t we hit the showers?” Bobbi nudges Skye’s side gently and gives her a sympathetic smile. “The hot water will help.”

“Is that your offer to carry me? Because I don’t think I can move.”

Bobbi wraps one of her hands under Skye’s arms and practically drags her to her feet. She manages to start putting one foot in front of the other, though Bobbi’s hand lingers on her back for added support. Over at the weight bench, Trip stands up, his arms and shoulders glistening as he wipes down the bench before Hunter takes his place and Trip moves to spot him. Bobbi winks at Skye before saying overly loud, “I mean, you know what you’re doing, Skye, you’re at least with a guy who’s taller than you.”

Hunter sits up so fast he slams into the weight bar, sending it flying. Trip manages to catch it before it can fall on Hunter’s legs and Hunter is grumbling, helping Trip to put it back in position before he shouts, “I know you did that on purpose, Bobbi! That’s a low blow, Morse!”

Hours later, when she lays face down on her bed with an icepack covering her tender spots, she contemplates what Bobbi had to say. She wonders if it’s truly possible to care about someone while rightfully doing your duty or if the mission will always eclipse everything else. Would there always be a battle to see which one would outlast the other?

She’s so absorbed in her own thoughts, she doesn’t realize Trip has come in until he’s removed the ice pack and set it aside. “How are you feeling?” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss next to the lobe and the sound of his voice rumbles through her body.

“I don’t know what I did to May, but tell her I’m sorry, please make her forgive me.”

He chuckles and the bed dips under his weight. She hears the click of a bottle opening and tenses until warm lotion is poured over her back. She can’t stop the moan that is wrung from her lips as Trip’s hands slide over her skin. His fingers dig into her muscles to relieve the tension and she melts into her mattress, letting him work through all her soreness.

She’s practically asleep under his ministrations when he says, “You and Bobbi making fun of Hunter earlier?”

“Hm?” She blinks her eyes slowly as she tries to think back. “Oh, not really. He was mostly conversation adjacent. Just talking about…” She considers how much she wants to share. “Stuff.” His hands hesitate for just a moment at her reticence before he guides his palms down her spine. “She thinks you’re hot.”

“Oh yeah?” He sounds way too smug and pleased about this.

“Yeah.” She buries her face in her pillow, not caring if her voice comes out muffled. “You could get a piece of that.”

His facial hair tickles her cheek as he whispers in her ear, “Are you trying to tell me we’re gonna have a threesome with Bobbi Morse? Should I work out more, get prepared?”

She reaches around to smack him, then forcefully rolls on to her back, groaning as her body protests all of these actions. “Look what you made me do,” she grumbles, pouting.

Kissing her solidly on the mouth, he says, “Is this you trying to say we’re not having a threesome?”

“We’re not having a threesome!”

“Then I don’t know what’s going on.” He settles his body on top of hers, chin resting in the valley between her breasts as he eyes her carefully. “I mean, she thinks I’m hot, that’s a given. I wouldn’t kick her out of bed. But where do you come in?” He presses a kiss there to the space he has claimed next to her heart. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

She decides she can’t breathe because Bobbi has bruised her ribs. “You’ve seen her, right?”

“I’ve seen better.” He smiles at her slowly. “Plus, I don’t want to fight Hunter, it would put a real damper on this bromance we’re starting to build. I don’t think I’m wrong in assuming he’s the type of guy who can hold a grudge for a while.”

Snorting, she can’t help but laugh and tries to imagine a Hunter who didn’t nurse unnecessary grudges like they were baby birds who had fallen out of their nests. She strokes Trip’s cheek with her thumb, comforted by the way his eyes close at the caress. “A pissed off Hunter is no good for anyone.”

“Exactly.” Trip leans up and kisses her slowly on the lips, then on her forehead. “You want some more ice and ibuprofen?”

“Please,” she says with a whimper. “And then, maybe, lay with me? I heard that skin to skin contact promotes healing.”

“Yeah? Where’d you hear that?”

She considers for a moment. “Simmons? I’m pretty sure it was Simmons. And, I mean, she’s practically a doctor.”

“Oh, Simmons was it?” He grins and kisses her again. “In that case, one ice pack, two ibuprofen, and a six pack coming right up.”

Groaning, she pushes at him as he slides off her and he laughs his way out the door of her bunk. Skye doesn’t tell him she’s already feeling better.

* * *

+1. Fitz

Skye’s pretty much an expert at awkward dinners. Have enough introduction dinners with foster homes and you learn to eat through pretty much any situation that most people would find stomach-churning. First foster dinners are basically first dates, after all, except instead of hoping that this person might want to date you for a little while, you’re hoping they’ll want you to join their family and live with them until you turn 18.

First impressions matter.

So eating dinner with Trip, Mack, the recently reunited Fitzsimmons, and the never-should-have-been-reunited Hunter and Bobbi? It’s like a 4 on the awkward dinner Richter scale. She’s reminded of the time she had been at a potential foster home and not realized the family was vegan and…well, it had all kind of gone downhill from the moment they had put mac and “cheese” in front of her. She’d only lasted there about three weeks before completely messing it up.

She glances back and forth between Hunter and Bobbi, mentally trying to figure out which one is going to kill the other within three weeks.

Fitzsimmons, if it can be believed, are even worse. She and Trip are literally sitting between them and if she wasn’t a highly skilled spy she wouldn’t notice the way they kept glancing at each other and then down at their plates, but she is and she does. It’s almost enough to put her off her food, but dessert is going to be pie so there is no way that’s gonna happen.

“So, Fitz and I are working on some cool things down in the lab,” Mack says, taking a bite of his baked potato. “Right, Fitz?”

Fitz just shrugs, not looking up from his chicken. Skye knows the boy likes to eat, and yet he’s done nothing but push the food around his plate since he sat down. Several seats down the table, Hunter takes another long drag of his beer, glaring at Bobbi as if somehow this is all her fault. Simmons hasn’t looked at anyone but Fitz, let alone tried to talk to anyone, including Skye.

Next to her, Trip kicks her gently under the table as if officially tapping her into the ring to do something about this. Skye isn’t entirely sure why she’s in charge, except, well, Fitz and Simmons are kind of _her_ people and they’re causing at least half of the major tension in the room and she should probably claim them and fix it.

Really, she takes no responsibility for Hunter and Bobbi, that’s all Mack.

But Mack has none of her finesse so it looks like this is going to be on her. Great. As Fitz looks over at Simmons and catches her eye for the slightest second, he gets so overwhelmed that he drops his fork and nearly knocks over his water glass, which is saved at the last second by Trip. Fitz turns so red by the commotion that there’s really only one thing that Skye can think do.

“So, Trip and I have been doing it.”

Trip freezes with his hand still on Fitz’s glass; across the table, Mack’s fork full of potato hangs in the air on its way to his mouth. Simmons chokes on her broccoli, but Bobbi, luckily, looks a bit amused. Fitz just gapes at her as he tries to find his words. “You’re…you…what?”

“Yeah,” she says casually, shrugging. “I realized that everyone here didn’t know and, you know, we’re kind of a team. It’s like Hunter told me, we should be aware of these dynamics.”

Hunter drops his silverware on his plate with a clatter, spreading his hands out in front of him. “Whoa, don’t bring me into this!”

Fitz looks wildly at Skye, then Hunter. “You knew?”

“I didn’t!” Mack says, laughter booming. “But now I know why some people have been a lot happier than others.” He winks over at Trip, who grins back at him.

“Is this really proper dinnertime conversation?” Hunter gestures at the table with his fork, then points it directly at Skye. “Is this how you were raised?”

“Yes, the nuns often used to regale us with stories of their sexual conquests.”

Hunter scowls at her while Bobbi laughs and Mack pats him heartily on the back. “C’mon, man, let the kids have their fun.”

For his part, Fitz is still staring around the table. “Did…d-did everyone know?” When no one else denies it, he pushes back from the table and leaves the room.

“Fitz!” Simmons calls and Trip echoes her cry, but he acts like he doesn’t hear it.

Skye squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “Well, that backfired,” she mutters before abandoning her dinner to go after him.

His door is shut and locked when she reaches his room and she pounds on it a few times with no answer. A few taps on her phone into the security system reveals someone has just entered his room and that Fitz’s security badge hasn’t been used anywhere else on the base, so she knows he’s in there. “Fitz, let me in!” she calls, knocking louder. Again, there’s no answer. “C’mon, Fitz, we need to talk.”

When he continues to ignore her, she clears her throat and says, “Look, you’ve got thirty seconds to open this door or I will just break in. You know I can do that, right? You totally know that. So thirty seconds and then you might as well time me to take how long it takes to get into your door because, frankly, it’s gonna be impressive and I’d like to know what the exact number is.”

It takes him seventeen seconds to open the door and when he does, he’s glaring at her like she just told him monkeys were extinct. “What do you want?”

“To talk to you,” she says, pushing past him and into his room. He will have to physically fight her to get her out and, frankly, Skye has been able to take him since day one.

“Doesn’t seem like…that way. Just Bobbi and Hunter and…and everyone else.”

“You can say her name,” Skye grumbles and Fitz focuses his gaze on the floor. “Look, Fitz, I wasn’t intentionally keeping anything from you. Trip and I weren’t advertising anything. It just sort of came out. Hunter caught us and Trip likes to bite, so Simmons, she…she’s observant, you know that.” Fitz wrinkles his nose, but nods. “And I’m not entirely unsure that Bobbi isn’t psychic.”

Sighing, she adds, “To completely clear the air, Coulson and May know too.” When Fitz just makes a small, wounded noise, she groans. “Okay, look, May seems to have this sixth sense of when I’m having sex and just _shows up_ and Coulson is Coulson! He had to warn us about the whole anti-fraternization thing.”

He crosses his arms tightly over his chest and licks his lips. “That’s, ah, still…you know, a po—a pol…a thing?”

“Apparently. Not a heavily enforced one.” He seems disappointed and she knows why but she also knows better than to bring it up. “Look, okay, we weren’t telling anyone, okay? People were mostly telling us. In fact, you were the first person we actually told because we wanted you to know.”

This seems to sooth him, but only a bit. “I’d know already,” he says softly. “If we ever…hung out or anything…”

The bitter, petty part of her wants to remind him that he’s the one that pulled away, that they were waiting for him to want to come back, but she reigns that in. She let him drift that far. She’s been here the whole time and not realized just how far he had gotten. “I’m sorry. I miss it. The old times. Us hanging out, playing video games and watching movies.” There were usually more people and she knew that at least the one she would want to be there wouldn’t be invited. “We could do that. Trip and I don’t do that much. I’m not sure you’d want to do what Trip and I do.” She runs her fingers down his chest and lowers her voice playfully. “Unless you’ve fallen back in love with me.”

He smacks her hand away, but he’s smiling. “I wasn’t—I didn’t _love you_.”

“Bullshit, there was some serious puppy love going on.”

“That’s not…we’re…love’s different.” He sounds equally convinced and heartbroken that she can’t help but wrap her arms around him; it’s a relief when he hugs her back.

She lingers in his arms until he pulls back, regarding her carefully. “So…you and Trip?”

Without waiting for permission, she sits on his bed, sighing. “Part of me thinks it was bound to happen. Kind of inevitable.”

He sits next to her and nods. “Yeah. I like him better than, uh, than…”

“Than my last guy?” She leans her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, me too.” They sit in silence for a while. Part of her misses the Fitz that never stopped talking, even when she couldn’t understand half the things he was saying, but the quiet has a sort of undisturbed peace to it that she doesn’t mind. Finding his hand, she grips it tightly before she says, “Feelings are terrifying.”

Fitz clears his throat, but doesn’t say anything, just nods quickly and puts his head on top of hers. She wants to be able to reassure him, to tell him that he shouldn’t worry so much, but she doesn’t want to come off as patronizing. She’s had Trip here this whole time, in her bed even, and she’s still not sure what to do with all the conflicting feelings she’s experiencing. She can only imagine what Fitz is going through.

His hand shakes lightly in hers and she grips it tighter, hoping to ward away the tremors. “Skye, I,” he says, hesitates. “I want you to…to be happy.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she presses her face into his neck. “Thanks, Fitz.” And when he puts it so simply like that, she thinks she is.

“If he makes you…uh, sad, I’ll…I could f-fight him.”

She looks up in surprise to see the self-deprecating smirk on his face and she laughs. “My hero,” she says and kisses his cheek. She’s stunned to see his face fall and she wraps her free arm around him, nuzzling his neck. “I need you to be happy too, Fitz.”

He just nods, holding her closer. Skye isn’t sure how she can be scared of anything when he’s giving her all of his strength.

When she finally leaves Fitz, she heads to her room to find Trip waiting outside. She winces when she sees him and he steps aside to let her open the door. “Hey,” she says conversationally. “How’d the rest of dinner go?”

“’Trip and I are doing it?’” he says incredulously as he follows her into her room.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” She flops on her bed and kicks off her shoes, putting an arm over her face. “It may have blown up in my face just a little bit.”

“Is that what we are, Skye? Are we just screwing around?”

She sits up suddenly, feeling dizzy. “Trip...”

He’s staring at her hopelessly, waiting for some kind of answer. “I know you were going for the shock factor, but I also thought…” He trails off and shrugs. “I thought this was more than that.”

“I mean, we’re not—we’re not going on dates or anything like that,” she says, suddenly defensive. The look on his face makes it clear that it’s not what he wants to hear.

“I guess not.” He nods, mostly to himself, then forces a strained smile at her. “Suppose I just had a different expectation. It’s cool, I get it. You know, you look tired, I’ll let you have a good night.”

She reaches for his arm, holding tightly. Skye has a feeling that if he leaves now, he’ll never return in this capacity. “Trip, please. Come on. I didn’t mean it like that.” He pauses and she’s glad not to have two people walk out on her in one night. Sighing, she shakes her head. “Look, I didn’t…didn’t know what to say, okay? You mean a lot to me. It’s been you and me and it’s been great. I don’t want to, I don’t know, classify it.”

Trip sits down next to her, his arm pressing against hers. “I know, I’m sorry. I just…I got caught up in it. I know it’s been tough for you and I don’t want to be someone who adds more grief. Forget I said anything.”

“I don’t want to,” Skye insists. “I don’t want to forget something that matters to you, that matters to me.” She wraps her hand around the back of his head, urging him to look at her. “We’re not just fooling around. I don’t think we ever have been. But…but I don’t think we have to put a name to what this is, do we? It’s just, it’s us.”

Leaning his forehead against hers, he gives her a light kiss. “No, you’re right. It doesn’t matter. What we have is good.”

“What we do is good,” she adds with a grin.

He laughs and kisses her more soundly. “I think it’d be unnecessary, if not impossible, to find some words.”

She sighs and nods, leaning into him and letting him wrap his arms around her. The relief is so overwhelming, she almost wants to cry. As someone with very few amazing things in this world, she cannot bear to lose one of them.

Skye is content to sit there wrapped in him until something occurs to her. “By the way, I feel like this is probably as good a time as any to tell you, Coulson knows about us and told me that the anti-fraternization policy is in effect.”

Pulling back just far enough to stare down at her, Trip says, “What does that mean and how long have you known about it?”

“You know, that’s really not important, but basically it just means that May as my SO and Coulson as the Director will keep an eye on us to make sure our…thing isn’t interfering with our work. But since it doesn’t, that won’t be a problem.”

He seems to accept that, but still frowns. “So, Coulson knows we’re doing it.”

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t he want to talk to me?”

Skye makes a face. “Did you want to talk to Coulson about how you regularly fuck me? I saved you from that.”

“You know what, good call, that was a damn good call.” He shudders at the idea and kisses the top of her head.

When Skye yawns, she buries her face in his neck and clings tightly to his t-shirt. “Will you stay tonight?” she murmurs, nuzzling at his shoulder.

Trip laughs, but rubs her back. “C’mon, girl, you know I’m not going anywhere.”

They strip down and climb into her bed, Skye’s head claiming his chest as a pillow. His strong arms hold on to her tightly and she can feel her anxiety melt away. She wants him, yes, and in the morning, she’ll remind him of that. But right now, with the sound of his heartbeat pumping solidly in her ear and the feeling of his lips pressing kisses against her forehead, she doesn’t want anything else in the world.


End file.
